


The Constant Moon

by Rhoda_Writes



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, M/M, OT3, Porn With Plot, Post-Season/Series 05, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-07-14 23:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16050377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhoda_Writes/pseuds/Rhoda_Writes
Summary: The Doctor, Amy, and Rory get stranded on Revelry Island--formerly a well-known romantic getaway, currently abandoned except for one tea shop and inn called the Red Lotus. First attempt posting smut in a very long while. Beta'd by Stormkpr. (Thank you!)





	1. Crash Landing

One place the TARDIS had never taken them before: underwater. Soaking wet, Amy, Rory, and the Doctor trudged to a rocky beach with nothing but the moon to light their way. It was night on this world.

Amy peeled her jacket off and started wringing out her hair. "Ugh," she said. "It's freezing! You couldn't have aimed better with the parking job at least?"

"Never parked it underwater before," said the Doctor. "I should do something about that. Maybe install a failsafe to reroute it when it lands somewhere dangerous. Actually, I'm not sure how we're going to get back down there." He stared out over the dark water, with his worried face on.

Amy hated it when he got the worried face. It meant he'd gotten them lost and didn't know what to do next. Again.

Rory came up behind her and started rubbing the warmth back into her arms. "So, where are we?" he asked. Always practical, was Rory.

"Dunno yet--let's ask."

The spot where they'd washed up rose into a gravelly hill, with a gleam of light behind it. Possibly--hopefully--from a village or a bonfire or something. A handful of waterfront cottages dotted the shoreline, so at least it was habitable. Or had been, once. The Doctor led the way up and over.

"We'll have to leave the TARDIS for now anyway," he said. "No way to get to her until it's daylight.'

Under her breath, Amy turned to Rory and muttered, "Next time we see River, I'm making her teach me how to drive that thing."

"Sorry, what?" asked the Doctor as Rory stifled a laugh.

Amy shrugged. "Nothing. Carry on, we're coming."

It took just a few minutes to reach a small inn. A few lights were burning behind the windows. No cars, no vehicles of any kind, not even horses. Just smooth white stones laid out in a charming path up to the front door. Hanging over it was a painted sign with a bright red blooming flower and the words, "Red Lotus Tea Shop & Inn."

Amy nearly swooned with relief. "Oh, brilliant. I would sell a kidney for tea right now." She tied her hair into a knot to get it off her neck, but was still chilled to the bone.

"Keep your voice down, Pond," scolded the Doctor. "For all we know, that's what they're selling it for."

Rory shot her a worried look, but Amy just rolled her eyes and followed him inside. It was difficult to know whether he was joking when he said things like that. It was a big universe after all. But the Doctor was maddeningly lenient with the details sometimes.

The Red Lotus seemed inviting enough. At the very least, it was warm. A cheery fire in a brick fireplace took up most of the wall in a dining room to the right, just off the carpeted front hallway. Five round tables stood there, all painted wrought iron, all with matching chairs, and a tea set of a different design at each one. Floral curtains were drawn shut against the night, and in addition to the fire, a single brass chandelier hung from the ceiling.

They had barely taken in the scenery when a sweet older woman emerged from deeper in the house. "Welcome, lovelies--oh dear, you must be freezing! I didn't think we were expecting rain today."

As she spoke, she jostled and pulled them into three chairs around a table under a teapot painted a lacy, bluish pattern that almost looked like a spiderweb. She was deceptively spry despite that cloud of wispy white hair, deep wrinkles, and knuckles knotted with arthritis. And strong too, under her gingham house dress and sunny yellow cardigan.

"It wasn't raining," said Rory. "We were just . . . in the lake."

"What, swimming? At this hour?" The woman clucked her tongue. "No wonder you're half frozen. You'll be needing something strong, then?"

"Yes, lovely," said the Doctor. "Cup of tea for all. But first, if you don't mind, where exactly are we? We got a bit lost on the way in."

The woman laughed, and her wrinkles bunched up congenially. "Heavens, what a question. Why, this is Revelry Island, of course. The Lunar Lovers Lane, the most popular romantic getaway in the Eye of Orion." She laughed again. "Silly old me, I took you for honeymooners."

The Doctor's face brightened. "Revelry Island! Well, there you go, Ponds. Didn't I promise you a second honeymoon?"

He went on concocting an elaborate lie about why they were all there--something about taking a wrong turn at Betelgeuse--while Amy watched and tried to figure out his game. The fire was warming her up enough that she wasn't completely focused on being cold and clammy anymore, but the Doctor was up to something. True, the honeymoon she and Rory had originally gone on had been interrupted by a storm of fish--long story--but he'd never mentioned sending them somewhere else to make up for it. In fact, he probably thought their near-fatal adventure had improved it.

Once the old woman, who introduced herself as Lucretia, had gone off to put water on for their tea, Amy pinned the Doctor down with her gaze.

"A second honeymoon?" she said. "Not that I'm against it, but what are you doing?"

"Yeah, and side-note," Rory added, "if you do want to send us on another honeymoon, I'd kind of prefer it if you didn't tag along."

Amy laughed, but it almost got stuck on the way out. A tiny splinter of doubt, or perhaps something stronger.

The Doctor glanced at her. Could he see that flicker of conflict she'd felt? Even if he did, chances were he wouldn't mention it until a good forty-eight hours had passed.

"Revelry Island," he said, "was a highly sought-after romantic getaway . . . once upon a time." He looked at his watch. "Rather a long time ago, in fact. No explanation, no word from the people who used to run things--nothing. One day, people simply stopped coming here."

"So, what happened?" asked Amy.

The Doctor grinned. "Exactly."

# # #


	2. A Suite In Mauve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ponds find their way to a hideously over-decorated suite at the Red Lotus. Then Amy recalls a certain kiss from the night before her wedding, and gets handsy with herself in the bathroom. . .

The tea warmed Amy all the way down to her toes. Some special concoction that the Red Lotus had made famous, brewed with roses and lotus blossoms. It was divine, perfect as wrapping up in an electric blanket, and made her feel the tiniest bit dizzy.

It was fortunate the shop was also an inn. Lucretia put them into two rooms upstairs, and wouldn't hear a word about payment. "I'm sure it'll work out later," was all she said. Although she seemed surprised that they wanted two rooms.

"Two beds?" she asked, incredulous. "I thought you were on honeymoon, lovelies."

Amy couldn't make the woman's math add up, but never mind. Their suite had a bath and that was all she wanted to think about at the moment. The room also had a huge bed, made up with half a dozen feather pillows and a fluffy comforter big enough to drown in. The sheets and comforter were mauve. As were the squashy love seat in the sitting room, the thick carpet, and the velvety drapes.

"Well," said Rory, gaping at their surroundings. "This is . . . cozy."

"Cozy?" said Amy. "It's like an entire Valentine's catalog died in here."

He let out a breath. "Oh, thank god. You hate it too?"

"Of course I hate it--it's hideous." She ran a hand over an arm of the love seat. "If all the rooms are like this, I can see why people stopped coming."

Rory wanted to go straight to sleep, but Amy had other priorities: the bath. The tub was enormous, easily deep enough for Amy to sink under the water if she filled it all the way up. There was an array of oils and bubblebath lined up along a porcelain ledge, and thick towels and a matching rug. All mauve, naturally. Even the simple wooden chair standing in the corner was mauve.

There must've been a toilet somewhere. Amy cut the faucet on and let it run while she looked deeper into the room. Ah--there it was, around the corner, with one of those chintzy cloth covers in--What else?--mauve.

How big exactly was this suite? Did the Doctor have another one just like it all to himself? Knowing him, he'd pour every single bottle of bubblebath into the tub at once, just to see how frothy he could make it. Or, he'd find something alien and dangerous that had to be dealt with, and burst in here without warning.

Now, there was a thought. The Doctor crashing through the bathroom door, while Amy was naked and in the tub. Now that she thought about it, Amy wondered how it hadn't happened before. She wasn't entirely sure she didn't want it to.

As the room filled with steam, Amy peeled out of her still half-sodden clothes. Boots, shirt, and jacket went onto the wooden chair. Her skirt and stockings she tried to lay down flat on the sink, same with underwear and bra. Then she took her hair out of its knot and tried to work through the tangles with her fingers. The mirror had fogged up so that she couldn't see more than a pinkish blur where her reflection was. There was a faint, floral perfume in the air. Which was odd, because Amy couldn't remember putting any oils into the bath. Maybe there was an air freshener in the room or something.

She slid into the tub. A few degrees below scalding, just how she liked it. She breathed out slowly as she lowered herself down. The water came up to her chin when she was fully submerged. She stretched out her leg and switched the faucet off with her toe. Then finally, she laid her head back against the porcelain.

Okay. Horrible mauve décor aside, Amy could definitely picture getting comfortable in here with someone special. She could just about do laps in this tub. Maybe she should've invited Rory, instead of steamrolling in on her own like she always did. Or. . .

And there he was, like a mirage that never quite disappeared, no matter how hard she tried to see past it to the solid ground: The Doctor. She couldn't stop him from popping into her head. Not always, and never while she was actually, physically _with_ Rory--except those times when she made him dress up as the Raggedy Man, but that was a long time ago now--but when her moods turned lusty, the Doctor was never far from her mind.

_So what?_ she told herself. _You're allowed to think about it, long as that's all. It's not like anything's going to happen._

Of course it wasn't. Not for lack of trying on her part, though. She'd tried to seduce him once. Well, more than once, technically. Not that it mattered, because he'd put a stop to it firmly and forever.

_Right, but he did kiss you back._

He did. Yes, he did. Oh, he'd deny it, but Amy remembered. The night before her wedding, after they'd just barely escaped an army of Weeping Angels. She'd shoved him back against the TARDIS and kissed him. For a fraction of an instant, before he'd seized her shoulders and pushed her away, he had slid his hands into her hair and drawn her closer. He kissed her back.

Now, Amy's hand was moving down her belly, to the space between her legs. She sucked her lower lip between her teeth. No telling how soundproof this room was, but she didn't want to take the chance.

She didn't have anything to feel guilty for, she told herself. It was just a memory. A short memory, but a pretty good one, if she slowed it down and stretched it out. There had been a hunger in that kiss, before his senses caught up to him. What would that hunger have been like if he'd let her get farther?

She shoved her hand between her legs. Damn, she should've cut her nails first. Okay then, easy this time. She moved her fingers slowly in and out, in and out. She was already close. She could feel it coming like a wave.

Back to the Doctor and the kiss they should never have shared. She let her mind reel back to the feel of his lips (in and out), the pressure of his hands on her face and her shoulders (faster now), the quickening dual heartbeats as she had run her hands up his chest--

_There_. That familiar pinch and release. Amy curled her hand into a fist and breathed. Wow, that had been a big one. Bigger than she'd expected. She hadn't come that fast in a while, not in the bath. The steam was dissipating a little, but the scent of flowers still hung heavy in the air.

Suddenly, she recognized it, the light, clean scent with a bitter sharpness underneath it: lotus flowers. Same as what had been in the tea. The perfumed air smelled like lotus flowers.

# # #


	3. Dodgy Topography

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor, Amy, and Rory explore more of Revelry Island and discover they are not the first ship that's crash-landed there. Also, something about their host seems different. . .

Lucretia served them eggs on toast, scones with clotted cream, fresh raspberries, and another pot of that red lotus tea for breakfast.

"Not bad, this," said Rory, dunking a scone into his cup. "But doesn't she have anything else?"

"I rather like it," said the Doctor.

"So do I," said Amy. "It's nice. Everything about this place is nice."

Matter of fact, Amy was in a funny mood. After last night, she felt different. Like her skin was humming from a low-level electrical pulse. It was weird, but good.

"Okay," said Rory. "But does anyone else feel like she's trying to fatten us up?"

Amy laughed at that. "Right ray of sunshine, you are. We're in a resort town, Rory."

"An abandoned resort town from which all the other tourists have mysteriously disappeared," the Doctor reminded her. "We can't rule anything out." He shot a furtive glance at Amy.

Wait. Did he know something? "What's that face for?" she asked.

But before he could answer, Lucretia came back with another plate of scones. Unfortunately, Amy had lost her appetite. Something was different about the old woman today. Not just the cardigan, which was lime green with pearl buttons now. But was she standing just a bit taller? Also her hair had changed. It had been snow white the night before, but now it was more of an iron gray.

"Ah, brilliant!" exclaimed the Doctor, grabbing another scone and saving them from an awkward silence. "Now, two things before we pop off for the day: we don't intend to stay long, but there's the matter of the bill to take care of?"

Lucretia dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand. "Not to worry, dear. You've made a handy down payment already. I'm sure the rest will come." She smiled.

"What?" asked Amy. "But we didn't give--"

The Doctor held up a finger for silence. "I'm sure it will. Second thing: a map of the area, if you can spare one?"

"With the brochures by the front door," said Lucretia. "And if you go into the gardens, take the path with the climbing hydrangeas. There's a charming view of the lake from the top."

The Doctor nodded. "Thanks very much. Right--finish your breakfast, Ponds. We have exploring to do."

#

The village map indicated a vibrant, tourist-centered community with dozens of shops and diversions: ice cream parlor, cinema, paddle boat rentals, a museum, sweet shop, and the garden that Lucretia had mentioned. Except nothing was open. It was all empty and abandoned, and had clearly been that way for quite some time.

The Doctor marched from one shop to the next, scanning around with his sonic screwdriver and going, "Uh huh," or "That's interesting," as he perused the readings.

"Do you think she's even noticed?" asked Amy. "That she's the only one left?"

"The rooms at the inn are clean and stocked though," said Rory. "She must have some kind of housekeeping staff. It's small, but it would be impossible to keep it up on her own."

"Yeah, and what did she mean about down payments? We didn't give her anything."

The Doctor paused. He pocketed the screwdriver. "No," he said. "Not intentionally at least, but she seems to think otherwise. So here's the question: What did she take?"

Amy could practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes. Something was clicking into place, or just starting to. "Doctor?" she asked. "What is it? What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking. . ." He searched his pockets, and came up with the map of town he'd grabbed from the inn's foyer. He flipped it around a few times before getting it the right way up. "Ah! I'm thinking we should get to this climbing hydrangea path," he tapped at the map with a finger, "and take a look at that charming view of the lake."

Before Rory and Amy could finish rolling their eyes at each other, he was dashing off again, in the direction of the botanical gardens.

Almost to Amy's surprise, the walk up _was_ charming. She'd never been one for flowers or long walks without a destination or goal apart from the company, but it was really nice. The gardens were completely overgrown, but in a way, that made it nicer. The flowers and ivy all wild and growing free, wherever they liked. Dozens of aromas cascaded around them, and the path--white gravel underneath--was narrow enough that the three of them couldn't walk side by side. So the Doctor forged ahead as usual, and Amy pulled Rory's arm around her, with her own slipped around his waist.

They strolled, hanging back a bit to take in the scenery. The hydrangeas were soft, candy blue, clinging to the trunks of trees with peeling bark like reptiles shedding skin. Bees and damselflies tumbled in and out of the foliage. The sunlight dripped down gently. Amy put her hand out to catch it, watching the light play over her pale skin.

"All right, Mrs. Williams?" Rory asked, the fourth time Amy giggled with delight.

"Sorry," she said. "It's just so beautiful here."

"Okay. . . But why are you being weird?

"I'm not being weird, I'm just happy," Amy snapped. "That's not a problem, is it?"

Rory laughed. "No. No problem at all." Then he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

Actually, Amy did feel a bit off. It wasn't anything major. Just a nervous, giddy energy that bubbled up from her toes. She felt _restless_. And a little reckless. It was like being in a dream, where nothing she did could possibly have any consequences. She had this wild desire to pull her clothes off and let the sunlight sink into every pore. She wanted to grab Rory, throw him against one of those trees, and make love to him right there. She wanted to take the Doctor and--

No. That was enough daydreaming. She shivered, and leaned against Rory a little heavier.

Up ahead, the Doctor's voice floated back to them: "Now, that is a sight! Hurry up, you two. What's taking so long?"

They joined him at the lookout spot. It was only a small incline, but the view was spectacular. Not just the lake, but the woods surrounding it, with lush undergrowth and wildflowers on every bank. Beyond the lake, glistening pale blue, were a series of white gravel paths. Some of them appeared to lead back into town. Others were too far to see.

The Doctor twisted his screwdriver, trying to find a setting, and pointed it out over the water.

"Okay," said Amy. "Lovely view, but why are we here? What's this have to do with--"

"The ground's funny--the lakebed. The topography doesn't make sense."

"What do you mean?"

"It's all dodgy and lumpy." He peered at the readings on the screwdriver. "Because my TARDIS is down there. Along with at least a dozen other ships."

Rory sighed slowly. "So, that's what she took," he said.

"No," said Amy. She shook her head, staring at the lake and wishing she could see straight to the bottom. "No, she can't. It's not possible. Doctor, tell me that's not possible. We can get it back, can't we?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Nothing's impossible. Still." He snapped the screwdriver shut. "The TARDIS hasn't been taken. Not yet. She's crash-landed, and she wasn't the first. So, what happened to the others?"

# # #


	4. Light Sleeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang decides to stay at the inn despite knowing Something Is UP with Lucretia. Later, Amy is feeling restless and can't sleep, so she decides to head up to the library. . .
> 
> (Warning: cliffhanger chapter.)

They decided against confronting Lucretia as they returned to the inn. All the same, they approached the white stone path to the front door cautiously.

"Isn't it dangerous to stay here?" asked Rory. "If we know all those ships are empty because of . . ." he nodded uncomfortably at the front door, ". . . her?"

The Doctor flung an arm around Rory's shoulders. "Well of course it's dangerous, Rory, but when has that stopped us before? And anyway, we don't 'know' anything yet. We 'suspect.' Big difference. Suspecting means we get to investigate."

"You want to keep an eye on her," said Amy.

"Indeed I do."

When they came back inside, Lucretia was in the front den, sorting through some paperwork. She brightened when she saw her visitors. "Good evening," she said. "Supper's already set up in the dining room. Please help yourself."

"Much obliged," said the Doctor. "Although, we were wondering--"

"Where everyone else has gone?" Lucretia sighed and went back to her papers. "They always ask that. I wish I could tell you."

"No, actually," said the Doctor. "That is odd, admittedly, but we wondered whether it's all right to stay a few extra nights? Not quite sure when we'll be ready to head off."

There was a heavy pause. Lucretia stared at him with narrowed eyes, her hands paused between envelopes on her desk. Amy went stone still. If the old woman suspected something, this trip would be over a lot quicker than they'd planned.

But Lucretia smiled wide and said, "Of course! I admit, it's been a long time since I've had such accommodating visitors. But please, stay as long as you like. It's a pleasure to have you."

She had put together another mouth-watering spread: hot slices of juicy ham, vegetables roasted with rosemary and butter, and thick, fresh-baked bread with four different kinds of jam. There was even a jug of iced tea--the same tea from that morning, with a sprig of crushed mint. They took a few plates upstairs and ate in the sitting room in Amy and Rory's suite.

"This is gorgeous," said Amy. "I hope she's not trying to poison us."

Rory froze and stared at his plate like it had offended him, but the Doctor only laughed.

"No, I don't think so," said the Doctor. "She's too proud for it. Loves cooking and fussing over her company. It would be an insult to her own reputation to poison us."

"Rory's right though," said Amy, licking her fingers. "We can't just carry on like everything's fine if we suspect her of something."

"Sorry, did I mishear you, or did you just say I was right?" said Rory.

"Don't get used to it." She reached over and ruffled his hair.

"I don't intend to carry on like everything's fine," said the Doctor. "We will do our investigating, don't you worry. But in the morning. Meanwhile." He took one last swig of tea and stood up. "Bedtime for you two."

"What about you?" asked Rory.

"I will keep an eye on things in case anything funny happens during the night. I'm a very light sleeper."

The trouble was, Amy couldn't sleep either. She was too full of that same restless energy that had come over her in the gardens. It had felt like it was wearing off towards the end of the day, but now it was back--and stronger. She practically attacked Rory the second the Doctor's footsteps faded down the hallway. She twisted her fingers into the folds of his shirt and kissed him until they both came up gasping.

"Why are you so clingy today?" Rory sputtered, as Amy worked her way down his neck. "Not that I'm complaining," he added quickly. "It's just--"

"Clingy?" Amy huffed. "Oh, you'll pay for that one, Mr. Williams." She shoved him backward onto the mauve bed.

They didn't even bother getting all their clothes off. Amy yanked his trousers down and pulled her skirt up just enough to straddle herself onto him. Even though Rory persuaded her to slow down, held her close and ran his hands through her hair, even though Amy came twice and murmured "I love you," into his ear, it barely took the edge off.

Rory fell asleep almost immediately, breathing deep and happy, probably dreaming about her. Amy watched him enviously. What was wrong with her? She couldn't sit still. It was like having an itch that needed scratching, but she just couldn't reach it.

She wandered back to the sitting room and tried drawing for a while, but it didn't help. She couldn't focus enough to decide _what_ to draw. Her brain was going too fast and noisy. Like a radio signal hopping from station to station without ever settling on one.

After checking that Rory was still asleep, she wrapped up in her dressing gown, pocketed a hand-sized torch, and left the room. Earlier, Lucretia had mentioned a library on the floor above theirs. Maybe finding something to read would help her mind quiet down.

# # #


	5. The Night Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An absolute tease of a chapter because I am a terrible person and like to draw things out FOR-EV-ER. But there will be more. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI I'm bumping the rating up to E because I'm not sure where the line is and I don't want anyone to wind up at a higher heat level than they want. However, in my experience this is still on the low-ish end of E.

The library was up a short flight of stairs at the end of the hall. Heavily polished wood floors with thick, carpeted runners down every aisle, and packed, narrow shelves too tall to see exactly how many there were. It seemed to go on forever. A few aisles ended in cozy reading nooks with squashy armchairs and tables with lamps. There was even a working fireplace, with a few games stacked on a coffee table--cards, marbles, puzzles--and more places to sit.

Many of the books were in languages Amy couldn't read. She recognized the lettering for a few, but only a few. That worried her a little. The TARDIS translation matrix wasn't working. Or maybe they were far enough away it wouldn't reach in here. Or maybe it was like High Gallifreyan, and wouldn't translate.

At the end of one aisle was a French-style window overlooking the backyard. Moonlight poured in, casting a soft, magical light over a winged leather chair and a matching footstool, and a side table with a Tiffany lamp. She'd never liked those things. Gaudy and absurd as decorating an entire bedroom in nothing but mauve.

Amy moved closer to the lamp, and then--

"Mrs. Pond, in the library, with the rubber torch!"

Amy yelped. The Doctor had just popped out from behind one of the shelves with his screwdriver held under his chin, casting his face in a greenish light.

"Oh, shut it!" Amy punched him playfully in the shoulder. "What are you doing?"

He laughed. "Keeping an eye on things, like I said I would. This house is much bigger than I thought. Do you know there are two other floors above this one, and a basement as well?" He peered at a reading on the sonic. "Haven't explored the whole place yet, just getting the schematics. Still! Lots more poking around to do, I expect."

"And you just happened to be in here at the exact same time as me?"

"No, I followed you, obviously. What are you doing up? You're supposed to be in bed."

Amy shrugged. "Couldn't sleep." She switched the Tiffany lamp on and plopped down in the leather chair. "Do you ever have those nights where your brain just won't shut off? Like you can't stop thinking long enough to relax?"

"All the time. I don't sleep as much as you on a good day." He sat down on the footstool in front of her. "It has got worse since we landed here, though." He frowned slightly, searching her face. "Is there anything in particular on your mind, Amelia?"

She was about to say, "No," but suddenly, with him sitting so close to her, looking so intently into her eyes, something clicked. _There's that itch,_ she thought. A heated swoon passed through her like a fever. That was it. She'd been restless and fidgety and, well, horny, because she couldn't stop thinking about _him_.

"Yes, actually," she said. "But I don't think you want to know."

"Of course I do." He leaned in and touched her cheek. "Amy, what's wrong?"

Immediately, she wanted to grab that hand and move it down, to her breast. Just imagining it sent another wave of desire through her. She dug her nails into the arms of the leather chair.

What in the world could she say to him? _Oh, nothing, Doctor, it's just that I want you to throw me down and shag me senseless, right on the floor of this library, and I don't even care if anyone sees us._

She swallowed. "It's complicated."

"Okay. Well, I'm listening."

And he was. The hand at her face reached back and stroked her hair. The look in his eyes wasn't one she'd seen before though. She knew his Worried Face and his Excited Face and his Angry Face, but this was something else. Hadn't he said he'd felt off too lately?

"I've been . . . distracted," she said. "Since we got here."

He nodded. "Yeah. Something's not right. Can't put my finger on it."

"What's on _your_ mind, then?" asked Amy, desperate to shift the conversation.

His eyes flickered away from hers. He took his hand back. "Nothing," he said. "Well, nothing worth mentioning anyway."

Wait. He looked so much closer than he had a moment ago. Had Amy inched forward on her chair without realizing it? Yes. She'd moved, and so had he.

"Any chance we're both thinking the same thing?" she ventured.

It was a long shot, but it had been a weird couple of days. He looked at her, eyes wide, and tried to laugh, but it didn't come out right.

"What?" he said. "No, definitely not."

"Why not?"

"Because it's ridiculous. And--impossible."

"Is it? Impossible's relative for us." Amy was feeling bolder. Having her smutty fantasies unreciprocated was one thing, but if he was feeling up for it, well--that was something else. "Rory's asleep, by the way."

"Oh, no you don't. I asked you first. And what does Rory being asleep have to do with it?"

Amy had shifted her foot up onto the footstool, perched a breath away from the Doctor's hip. Her dressing gown was falling open, revealing a slice of her short, silky nightdress.

"Do you know what I think?" asked Amy.

"What?" His face, illuminated by the soft light of the Tiffany lamp, was flushed red, his eyes intensely focused on her.

"I think maybe we're both tired of having the same conversation, and always having it end the same way."

Amy moved her foot closer and started rubbing his hip, slowly. She didn't take her eyes off him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice low.

"Yes you do." She was leaning closer now, inches away from his face.

He shook his head. "I really don't." He was watching her lips.

"Then why are you massaging my leg?"

"What?"

He looked down, surprised, to see she was right. His hand was wrapped around her calf, stroking and kneading, in time with the rhythm of her foot moving against his hip.

He breathed. "How long have I been doing that?"

"Not long enough." Amy took his face in both hands and closed the distance between them.

The kiss was sudden and urgent. He hesitated only a moment, then his free hand grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her in. They parted for breath once, then kissed again, deeper, their tongues sliding together. Amy curled her leg around his back. He ran his hand up and under her thigh.

The heat and the closeness wasn't enough. She wanted him inside her, _now_. Amy broke the kiss and wrenched the tweed jacket off him.

"Careful!" he warned. "That's one of my favorites."

She just laughed and got to work on the bow tie next. He helped her, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt. Both of them were breathing heavily now. She tried to climb onto the footstool on top of him, but he pushed her back into the chair. Amy started to protest, thinking he'd changed his mind.

But then he slid off the footstool and kneeled in front of her. He grabbed hold of her leg and started pressing kisses into her knee, and then moved to her inner thigh. Oh, this was better. Amy sank back into the leather, her back curving. She could feel the scrape of his teeth against her tender flesh. He was moving up, hooking her knee over his shoulder.

Amy's eyes shut. Her mind was pin-sharp now. No more jumbled radio signals. The noise had focused into words like, "Yes," and, "More" and, "Now." She slid her hand down, over her breast through the silk, down her waist, over the leather of the chair, and found the Doctor's shoulder, then his hair. His hand was at her ass, nails digging into her skin just a little. Her breath came in shudders. He was so close now. His lips and tongue ran up and up, slowly, so slowly.

Then suddenly, he broke away. Cool air rushed in to fill the space where he'd been. Amy heard rustling, as he gathered up his jacket and tie.

"What--?" she started.

"No," said the Doctor, his voice thick and trembling. "I can't-- _we_ can't--do this."

"Oi!" Amy got up to follow, but her whole body felt soft and rubbery. It was hard to stand up. She'd finish on her own if she had to, but this wasn't fair.

The Doctor was already halfway down the aisle when she caught up to him. She snagged one of his bracers and made him stop.

"What was that?" she said. "You can't just leave me like that."

"No, I know, I'm sorry. Amy, I am so, so sorry." He fumbled with getting his jacket back on while he talked, and couldn't quite look at her. "But I can't."

"Yes you can. In fact," Amy stepped closer and ran a hand up his chest, noting that he hadn't buttoned his shirt up yet, "you were doing it quite well, from where I was sitting."

His eyes brightened and he smiled. "Really? No--stop that." He snagged her hand and held it away. "Amy, please, just go to bed."

"You expect me to sleep after that? There's nothing more irritating than a man who can't finish what he started."

"It's not--"

"Doctor!"

He sighed, but he shut up.

"Did I imagine it?" asked Amy. "Because for a minute there, it seemed like you actually wanted me back."

"Oh, Amy." He smiled sadly. "Of course I want you. How could I not? Look at you." He reached out and smoothed her hair back with both hands. "I've wanted you since the night you showed me your wedding dress."

Well, that knocked the wind out of her. It had become their habit to keep up a constant, low-stakes flirtation pretty much all the time. Whenever Amy had gone too far, he had brushed her off. At every step, he made it clear that he only ever wanted to be her friend. She'd suspected he was holding himself back somewhat for the sake of propriety--or whatever passed for propriety in that big, weird head of his. That time they'd gotten stuck in a shared dream state had all but confirmed it. "Loves a redhead, our naughty Doctor." That's what the Dreamlord had said.

But to hear him actually _say_ it.

"Doctor--"

"We've been here before, Amy."

Amy shook her head. "No, we haven't. Not like this. This was different, and you know it." She was clutching at his lapels, willing him to give in like she had.

He leaned his forehead against hers. "Yes, you're right, this was different. And it's my fault. Which is why we have to end it now."

"I don't want to."

"I know, I know. Me neither." He kissed her forehead, then her nose, and her cheek. Amy raised her head to meet his lips again, but he grabbed one of her hands and kissed her fingers instead. Then he disentangled himself from her, and walked off between the shelves.

Amy grabbed onto a bookshelf to hold steady. One of her hands balled into a fist. Her labia were so swollen it almost hurt.

"I am very, _very_ cross with you, Raggedy Man," she called after him.

"Good-night, Amelia," he answered.

Just before he reached the corner and vanished into the darkness, Amy shouted, "Wait!"

He stopped and turned on his heel. "Yes, what is it?"

"Tomorrow night," said Amy.

He raised his eyebrows. "What?"

An idea was taking shape in Amy's imagination. It wasn't perfect, but it was worth a try.

"Come back tomorrow night," she said.

The Doctor sighed, hands on hips. "Amy, I thought we--"

"Just listen: tomorrow night, same time, same spot. Either we both come back, or we don't. If we don't, we forget it all. We carry on like nothing happened. But if we both come. . ." She let the last word and all its implications hang in the air, and let her gaze travel down to the slight bulge in his trousers he was trying to hide.

He blushed, straightened, and walked away. "Good-night, Amelia!"

Amy smiled. "Good-night, Doctor." Oh, she'd be here.

# # #


	6. The Old Book Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy and Rory take another look at the village and find something that shouldn't be there. Meanwhile, Lucretia is changing. . .

"I think you left this in the library last night, lovely."

Gravity rushed up so fast Amy nearly fell out of her chair. Her brain scanned through a dozen horrifically compromising items they might have left behind--dressing gown, bow-tie, a suspiciously misplaced book--but Lucretia was only holding out her torch.

"Oh!" Amy laughed. "Yes, I did. Thank you."

When she took it back, she noticed Lucretia's hands: no more arthritis knots. Some wrinkles on her face, but noticeably fewer. Her hair had gone darker again, a mousy brown with just a few shots of gray, and she was standing up straight. Amy frowned after the not-so-old woman as she went back into the kitchen.

"The library?" said Rory. "Is that where you went last night?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I um. I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd find a book to read." After a moment, she added. "I didn't mean to wake you up. Sorry."

Rory shrugged. "You didn't. I heard you when you came back to bed."

Silence spread out between them. Amy didn't dare look at the Doctor. She could practically feel him not looking at her. In fact, she was hyper-aware of every move he was making. His long legs crossed at the ankles, one hand holding his teacup, the other drumming on the table. He was way too still. That was how he masked anxiety, not by fidgeting, but the opposite. He was usually going a mile a minute no matter the occasion. This quiet didn't suit him at all.

A lump of guilt rose in Amy's throat. She shouldn't have pushed him last night. Why did she have to be so demanding of her lovers' time? She'd been the same with Rory, always ordering him around.

Suddenly, she gasped. "Wait a minute," she said, and put her hand on the Doctor's arm. "There was something I wanted to ask you."

The Doctor looked up, shocked. "What, here? Now?"

"Those books up there, they wouldn't translate."

He stared at her blankly.

"The TARDIS translation matrix--it didn't work up there. I mean, it's supposed to work on books too, isn't it?"

Finally, understanding clicked on in his face. "Ah! Yes, well, it does sometimes take longer with a written word. You have to concentrate. Not easy to do if you're, say, distracted."

Amy glared at him. "Hm. I guess that can happen, but I was looking."

"How hard were you looking?"

"Hard enough. Just couldn't get what I wanted."

"What?" asked Rory, looking from his wife to the Doctor curiously. "Couldn't get anything to read?"

"Okay, there was one that seemed promising," said Amy. "But it just left me frustrated."

The Doctor's face twisted into something like a sneer, but he controlled it quickly. Amy raised an eyebrow, daring him to respond.

"There's a sweet little rare book shop in the village," said Lucretia, choosing that moment to reappear. "Might be able to find something there. My collection's mostly dusty old things--boring stuff. No wonder you weren't excited by it." She chuckled under her breath.

#

They split up when they left the inn this time. The Doctor wanted another look at the lake. Amy didn't trust herself around him, so she went to find the book shop in the village, and Rory went with her.

Once they were clear of the house, Amy said, "Okay, is it me, or is she getting younger?"

"She is getting younger," said Rory. "I noticed it yesterday."

"What's that about?"

"Uh, aging backwards, maybe? River Song says the Doctor sometimes looks younger even when he's gotten older."

"Yeah, but that's different--he's a Time Lord. His whole face changes." Amy cast a glance back at the inn. "She's getting younger every day somehow. Every morning, there's something else changed. I don't like it."

"Me neither. But what do we do?"

Amy shrugged. "Stick our noses where they aren't wanted, ask questions, go past Keep-Out signs, open locked doors."

"The usual, then?"

"Absolutely." Amy grinned, then hooked her arm through his. "Come along, husband. Let's get into trouble."

Matter of fact, there weren't many locked doors or Keep-Out signs to sneak around. The town was just empty. The old book shop, dusty and decrepit though it was, at least passed the time a little. And it held the closest thing to an answer they managed to find: maps and a history of Revelry Island. It was as the Doctor had said: once upon a time, it had been a popular, tourist-heavy, widely visited spot for honeymooners and sweethearts. There had been spas, boat rides, romantic restaurants, and of course the little inn and the garden.

Oddly, there was no lake. On the maps or any of the pictures in the book. There were no pictures of the area behind the ridge they'd climbed to reach the inn at all. There was a river back in the woods not far away, but where the old resort of Revelry Island was concerned, there might as well have been nothing back there at all.

"Maybe the lake formed later," said Rory. "From rainfall or something."

"You don't believe that," said Amy.

"No, I don't." He tucked one of the maps in his pocket to show the Doctor later. "Do you think it's connected to whatever happened here to make the people stop coming? Like a massive meteor something?"

Amy shook her head. "A meteor would've destroyed all the shops. They're still here, they're just empty. It's like everyone just disappeared."

#

"They can't have," said the Doctor, pacing and talking with his hands in their room later that evening. "People don't just vanish--and they certainly don't stop coming to a place like this for no reason. What am I missing?"

"Maybe you're distracted," Amy muttered.

The Doctor glimpsed at her with barely masked annoyance.

"Do you know, I think you are," said Rory. "You _both_ are. You've been funny since we got here, talking past each other and all. It's weird."

_He knows._

No. Rory couldn't know. Amy bit her lower lip and ordered herself not to give anything away. He'd noticed something, but that didn't have to mean what she thought it meant.

"What do you mean?" she asked carefully.

"Oh, come on," said Rory. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed. You haven't been sleeping. Every night, you're up wandering around, like you're looking for something. And you," he turned to the Doctor, "don't seem to care that we're staying in an inn run by someone who is aging backwards."

"Yes," said the Doctor. "Lucretia is an odd one. I have noticed that, by the way, I just don't know what it means yet."

"And then there's me," said Rory.

Amy snapped her head around. "What?"

Rory was looking down at his hands, fidgeting restlessly. "I've felt . . . I dunno, weird, the past couple of nights."

"Like you can't sleep?" asked Amy.

"No, just the opposite, actually. I'm exhausted, all the time. And I keep . . . dreaming."

The Doctor had gone very still, watching him with a calculating expression. "Dreaming?" he asked. "What about?"

"I don't know. I never remember them. Not properly at least. As soon as I wake up, I only remember a few pieces, but then they're gone. Doctor, did you just sonic me?"

"Mm? No--of course not." The sonic was humming, and the Doctor was checking out a reading as if he'd just scanned something. "Okay, maybe a little."

"What's it say?" asked Amy, alarmed.

"Never mind that." The Doctor put the screwdriver away in his jacket pocket. "But Rory, do me a favor: if you dream anything tonight, write it down. Whatever you remember, no matter how inconsequential it might seem. Can you do that?"

Rory nodded. "I'll try."

"And you," the Doctor added to Amy. "Help him remember."

# # #


	7. Crossing the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some angst, but mostly a sex scene. Yeah, basically this whole chapter is a sex scene.
> 
> Happy October, everyone! *tosses black glitter and pumpkin-shaped confetti*

She almost didn't come. Something was the matter with Rory. If her husband was having troubled dreams, she ought to stay and look after him. But after all, dreams weren't dangerous. They were upsetting sometimes, and more rarely, prophetic, but they couldn't actually affect the real world. They wouldn't hurt him. He looked quite peaceful, lying on the mauve bed, eyes closed, breathing low and even.

Amy leaned over him, kissed his forehead, and whispered, "Back later," hating herself just a little as she shut the bedroom door behind her.

Anyway, this was temporary. Just once, just tonight, and it would be done. The Doctor would be out of her system. She only wanted him so much because she'd never had him. That was all.

She repeated those excuses to herself as she went up the stairs to the library. Already, her skin felt hot with anticipation. Even the swish of the silk nightdress against her body was tantalizing. She wasn't wearing anything underneath. It would just get in the way. She'd never been shy, but she'd never felt like this. "Distracting" didn't even begin to cover it.

Three whole minutes passed before the Doctor showed up. It felt like hours. Amy sat herself in that same leather chair, next to the same Tiffany lamp, bathed in the same moonlight. She kept twitching and fidgeting, trying like hell not to masturbate. If he did come tonight, she wanted to save that desire for him.

But he _did_ come. He appeared at the end of the aisle, around the corner where she'd watched him sheepishly turn away the night before.

Amy stood up. Her nerves were buzzing. "Hi," she said.

The Doctor smiled. Her voice had broken the spell. "Hello, Amy," he said.

And just like that, the line was crossed. They rushed towards each other. The Doctor grabbed her face and kissed her hungrily. Amy snaked both hands up his chest--he hadn't bothered with the tweed jacket this time--and curved her body towards his, wanting to squeeze up so close that not a single atom could pass between them. He moaned against her mouth, and shoved her backward into one of the bookcases.

The kiss broke only long enough for Amy grab hold of his shoulders, hoisting herself up, one leg hugging his waist for support. He hooked an arm around her back, clutching her tight, and buried his face in her neck.

"You sure about this, Pond?" he asked, his voice ragged.

"Don't you dare stop," Amy panted. "After today, I was afraid you'd change your mi--" She broke off, gasping. He had slipped a hand between her legs.

"I won't stop," he whispered, his mouth brushing her ear now. "And I won't change my mind." His hand rubbed slowly back and forth, back and forth, growing slick and slippery. "Unless you say so."

Jesus. Amy could barely think. She had one hand fisted in his hair, and was hanging on to his shoulder for dear life with the other. For some reason, she assumed she'd have to take the lead. But no. The Doctor definitely knew what he was doing. That hand was practically holding her up, stroking gently but insistently. She only hoped she wouldn't come too fast.

She turned her face and licked his cheek, ending it with a kiss at his temple, and squeezed just a little around his hand. He gave a satisfying shudder, his breath catching.

Then Amy whispered one word: "Faster."

He obliged her immediately. Without the wetness coating his fingers, the friction would've been too much . . . maybe. At this point, Amy probably wouldn't have minded a little pain. She was too far gone, and so was he, rubbing her frantically, and sucking the sweat off her jaw. Amy rocked her hips to match his rhythm. It was almost over now. The whole lower half of her body was burning.

Then it was like her insides exploded, and melted away. Amy sighed, letting her bones relax and her cheek fall against the Doctor's shoulder. She'd never come that hard in her whole life.

The Doctor's strength had left him too. He slid his hand back down, leaving a moist trail almost to Amy's knee, and sank to the ground. He held her close, cradling her on his lap, and kissed her face over and over. Amy stroked his hair and kissed his forehead. They couldn't seem to stop kissing. He brought his hand--his other hand, the clean one--up to trace the shape of her lips, then kissed her so tenderly Amy almost lost her breath.

There was something else behind the desire after all. There had to be. They had known each other, been such a big part of each other's lives, for so long, they'd become something else. Something messier, and more complicated, than the friendship they'd started on.

"We should go to bed," he said.

Amy shook her head. "No," she said. "We're not done yet. What about you?" She reached down between them until she found his cock, stiff but not spent. Then she kissed him again.

He smiled against her lips. "Mm," he murmured. "I meant _my_ bed, Amy."

Amy looked at him. His eyes were so dark they were almost black. "Oh," she said. "Well, that's all right."

"Thought it might be."

"Lead the way, Doctor."

They stumbled to their feet and left the library behind.

#

The Doctor's room was done up in purple. Still tacky and tasteless, but nowhere near as bad as mauve. Amy barely noticed it. She was busy ripping at the buttons on the Doctor's shirt, wrestling it off him, sliding his bracers down, and planting short, biting kisses up and down his chest. He staggered backward, his hands tangled in her hair, until he sat back onto the bed.

Amy fumbled with his belt until she got it off. She shrugged impatiently out of her dressing gown, and was about to pull the nightdress off over her head.

But the Doctor said, "Wait--leave it."

"Why?"

He didn't answer. He just took both her hands and pulled her toward him. He was staring at her chest. This gown was scandalously skimpy, which of course was why Amy always brought it along. Deep jade green, barely long enough to cover her ass. The neckline--what little there was of it--was black lace, low enough that the lace brushed the tops of her nipples. They hardened under the Doctor's relentless gaze.

_Go on then_ , thought Amy. _Grab them. I want you to._

She thrust her chest out as she moved forward, hoping he'd take the hint. His hands swept up her arms and settled on her shoulders. One finger sneaked under a spaghetti-thin strap, and slipped it off. The fabric fell away, revealing one breast. He peeled the other strap down, and the gown puddled on the floor around her feet. Her exposed skin felt hot and cool at the same time.

_Go on, do it_ , she pleaded silently.

He grabbed her arms at the elbows and pulled her closer. Then he bent his head, and fastened his mouth around one nipple.

_Yes._

Amy wove her hands into his hair. She shut her eyes and let her head fall backward. She was making low, throaty, yummy noises, but she was barely aware of it. His hands traveled to her waist, then lower, going around to caress her backside. All the time, his tongue was circling her nipple. Then, without warning, he switched to the other one. He caught it between his teeth but didn't bite down.

That broke her. This slow, teasing ministration was nice-- _really_ nice--but Amy couldn't wait anymore. She climbed onto him, straddling his swollen crotch. The Doctor, still nibbling at her breast, cradled her ass in both hands to help her up. They moved back, closer to the center of the bed. His mouth was at her throat now, and moving up to nip at her jawline. Both his arms wrapped tight around her waist. Amy kept one hand in his hair, and moved the other down his smooth back, savoring the feel of skin on skin.

"Doctor," she murmured, "you have got to get those trousers off."

The shift happened quickly. He flipped her around and suddenly, she was pinned beneath him, her arms held over her head. She smiled up at him.

"That's more like it," she said. "What are you waiting for? Are you worried I'll end up with a Time Baby or something? Because I did bring condoms--they're in my dressing gown pocket."

The Doctor laughed. "No, Amy, that can't happen. Time Lords don't work like that."

"What? You've been holding out on me!"

"I happen to like going slow." He kissed her mouth again, opening her wide and deep with his tongue.

"Mm, I noticed. But how hard are you? Doesn't it hurt?"

"Oh, it's agony." His lips moved to her cheek, her neck, her ear. His hands were back in her hair. God, how many hands did he have?

"Do it then," Amy moaned, curling her hands around his shoulders. "I want you to."

"I just wanted to give you time to change your mind." He lowered his mouth to the hollow of her throat. His thumbs rubbed at her nipples, making her squirm with anticipation.

"God's sake," she hissed. "How many times do I have to say yes?"

She reached down between them and hooked her fingers into his waistband. He got onto his knees to help her undo the buttons, then finally-- _finally_ \--kicked the trousers and underwear to the floor. Somehow--Amy was too dizzy with lust to see how--he snagged one of the condoms from her dressing gown pocket, and somehow got it on. She was so wet, his cock slid into her easily, like a glove. It was impossible to do it slow now. He rammed into her, hard, and she rolled and bucked her hips to keep up.

It was hard to remember he wasn't actually, technically, human. As far as Amy could tell, he was functionally the same. He swelled and stiffened inside her like a human. His skin grew hot and salty to the taste like a human's. He gasped and panted for breath, red-faced, like a human. Distantly, Amy wondered how different they were after all. As long as this part worked, did it even matter?

Before they finished, Amy rolled him over to put herself on top. She slid up and down his shaft, squeezing and releasing. His eyes stayed on hers. As she stroked his chest, he caught one of her hands in his and brought it to his lips. Somehow, that look, his eyes burning into hers, kissing her hand like that, pushed her over the edge. She shuddered as she came, and he came with her.

They collapsed, sweaty and satisfied, into each other's arms. The Doctor kissed her forehead before letting her pillow her cheek on his chest.

"Oh, Amy," he said. "We're going to be in so much trouble in the morning."

"Shush," she answered. "Don't ruin it."

He was right, but she didn't want to hear it. Not now. So she shut her eyes and curled her body around his, and after two restless nights, finally went to sleep.

# # #


	8. Tea Time's Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes, the Doctor suggests having a threesome, and we find out what's going on with Lucretia. . .

They stayed at the Red Lotus Inn for three more nights. The hours passed tediously during the day, but during the night. . . Amy could hardly wait for the dark to creep in and the moon to rise, just thinking about going back to the Doctor's arms. Maybe it was the number of times, and the number of years, that she'd fantasized about him like this, or maybe it was just that he was finally letting her touch him the way she'd always wanted to, but every night she wanted him _more_. So much for getting him out of her system.

Even during the day, in their increasingly half-hearted attempts at investigating whatever had happened to Revelry Island, they found excuses to slip away on their own. They snatched kisses from behind closed doors, whispered filthy suggestions in each other's ears around the bends of corridors, and pawed at each other under the cover of shadows with a feverish greed.

At night, though. At night, they were insatiable. They had sex two, three, sometimes five times a night, and strangely, Amy never got tired or sore. Or if she did, she didn't mind it. Not enough to notice. And as far as she could tell, neither did the Doctor. She mentioned it once, as they lay on his purple bed with the sheets thrown back and the moonlight painting their skin silver. He was resting his head on her thigh, and she was propped back against the headboard.

"It's weird though, isn't it?" she said, combing lazily through his hair with her fingertips. "Not that I'm not enjoying this, but shouldn't we be exhausted? Usually I need a break now and then."

"Plenty about this is weird," said the Doctor. He had one arm looped around her leg and was caressing her shin. "I don't know about you, but I don't really have a frame of reference for this particular situation."

"Seriously? Of all the people--of all the young, hot, and I'm guessing, eager girls--who've traveled with you, you never once slept with any of them?"

"Of course not! I mean, I may have wanted to, once or twice. But no. Never. Especially not if they were spoken for."

Amy winced. Yeah, there was still that to think about. "God, Rory. What do I say to him?"

"Invite him. Have him join us."

"What?" Amy laughed.

"Well, why not? He's your husband, isn't he? And I like Rory. He's a good bloke. It's not fair to leave him out."

"Wow. You really are an alien."

"It's either that, or keep lying to him, and I don't like that idea. Do you?"

"No. I hate it."

She'd thought about that, though. Her, with Rory, and the Doctor. Usually in the bath. It was one of her favorite recurring fantasies, along with--until recently--replaying her first kiss with the Doctor. If it had been just a fantasy, she might've ignored it. The problem was she loved both of them too much. She could live with just having them both in her life somehow, even if she couldn't make them both her lovers.

So why was he suggesting it now? Like it was easy? Then again, she'd thought it would be hard to be with the Doctor like this, and she'd been wrong. It was something about this place. Maybe the air here made people own up to their deepest, most secret desires. Not a bad idea to put a lovers' resort on this planet, if that was the case.

"Why not then?" asked the Doctor.

"Because he'd never say yes," said Amy.

"You're sure about that?"

Amy frowned. "Do you know something I don't, Doctor?"

"No, just . . . thinking."

She lost track of what happened next, because he started kissing her leg. Then he pulled her down flat onto her back, his kisses getting more insistent, and moving higher. Amy bit her lip, fingers twisting the bedsheets, and spread herself wide for him, the confusion of the last few minutes melting away as his tongue slipped inside her.

#

Meanwhile, Rory kept on dreaming. He wouldn't show Amy what he wrote in his notebook. He just jotted it down the second he got up and immediately stashed it in a drawer. She only had to remind him a couple times. After that, it was the first thing he did every morning. He never asked where she went every night.

"Just tell me one thing," said Amy. "Tell me one thing you dream about. If it's bad, I can help. That's my job, isn't it?"

They sat around their usual breakfast table, drinking their usual tea. Lucretia was glowing. She looked about forty now, maybe younger, and had a rosy blush in her cheeks and a shine in her chestnut hair. She practically floated in and out of the kitchen. Her hands only looked a little bit rough from working.

"We're missing something important here," said the Doctor. "Any detail might help. If you've established some kind of psychic link, or telepathic--"

"No, that's not it!" Rory sighed and rubbed his face. "I don't. . . It's not telepathy. This is coming from me, just not a part of me I. . ."

It hurt, actually physically hurt, to see him suffering. Amy reached out and took his hand. He seemed to relax a little at her touch.

"Rory," she said softly. "Please, what can we do?"

"I don't know. But they're getting worse. Well, not worse--they aren't nightmares. But they're getting more . . . intense, more vivid. It's harder to tell when I'm asleep or awake. I'm afraid that if I start dreaming again, I won't--" Suddenly he looked down at Amy's hands. "Amy, you're burning up."

"What?"

He was touching her face now with back of his hand. "You have a fever. A bad one. How long have you been ill?"

Amy pressed her hands to skin in a panic. Fever? No, she couldn't have a fever. "But I feel fine," she said.

The Doctor took a scan with the sonic. "Forty degrees Celsius and rising, gradually but steadily."

"God," said Rory.

"Oh don't worry, it's just a side effect," said Lucretia, breezing in with another pot of tea. "Not much longer now, lovelies. I do wish you'd taken just the one room. It's so frustrating watching you draw this out."

One room. . . Wait. Back when they'd first come here, Lucretia had been surprised that they wanted two. Amy had assumed that she meant something else, that they should've gotten three. But no. Lucretia wanted them all in one. Why?

The Doctor seized both Amy and Rory by the hands and yanked them away from the table, knocking their chairs over as he went. "Nobody take another sip of that tea," he said.

Lucretia smiled. "Quick one, you," she said. "But not quick enough. It's too late now. There's just one more payment to go."

"Payment," stammered Amy. "What's she talking about, Doctor? What's the matter with me?"

"Your payment," said Lucretia, patiently as if she was addressing a child. "In exchange for the rooms. Everyone has something they want but can't quite ask for. So I gave it to you. All of you. Well, almost." She glanced at Rory in disappointment. "But it's enough. A few more hours, and everything will be right."

Then she vanished. Just a puff of air that smelled faintly of lotus flowers. A powerful surge of desire flooded through Amy as the cloud dispersed. Where was that coming from? She couldn't be turned on by a cloud of perfume.

The bathtub. That first night. She'd stopped noticing it after awhile, but that scent had been with her when she'd masturbated in the tub. And it had been with them every time she and the Doctor had made love. It was fueling their craving.

The Doctor headed straight for the front door, but it was locked. The sonic was doing nothing. He growled in frustration and twisted it around, looking for another setting.

"We have to get out of here," said Rory.

"Yeah, what do you think I'm doing?"

"Doctor, what's happening?" said Amy. "That smell, is that her?" She was clutching Rory's arm, partly out of fear, but partly because she didn't think she could stand up without him supporting her.

"No, it's the red lotus. Mixed with roses, and herbs, and a number of other things which, under the right circumstances, produces a powerful aphrodisiac."

Amy felt sick. Everything they'd shared, all those lines they'd crossed. She'd betrayed Rory, and it was all because of an aphrodisiac. "Oh, I will kill her," she said.

"Steady, Pond," said the Doctor. "I don't mean it makes you do things you don't want to or create feelings out of nothing. It amplifies what's already there."

"And it can affect dreams?" said Rory. His voice sounded funny. Almost afraid.

The Doctor looked back at them, then gave up on the sonic and pocketed it. "Yes. Almost definitely. That's what she's been feeding on."

"Feeding--?"

"Like a parasite. A succubus, really, but not quite, because she leaves all the seducing to someone else." He glanced out the window. "That's why no one comes here anymore. Perfect feeding ground for a creature like her. I wonder how long it took them all to catch on?"

"Doctor, I don't understand," said Amy. "What has Lucretia been feeding on?"

"On us, Amy." He swallowed, not quite looking at her. "She's been taking all her energy from us."

# # #


	9. That's No Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward confession time! Also, there's a reason I named this "The Constant Moon" and that reason is coming up here.
> 
> Hope all my fellow East Coasters have stayed safe in this stormy weather!

The Doctor led them all back upstairs to Amy and Rory's suite, hunting the rooms for any clue that might help them escape. Every door and window downstairs was impassable. And that heady perfume was everywhere, making Amy want to throw herself at him even though she knew now what was happening.

"Amy," he said. "Go into the bathroom and bring me one of those towels."

"What for?"

"Just do it. Don't ask questions. We're running out of time. And Rory, get that notebook you've been writing your dreams in."

It was torture to walk away from him, but she did as he asked. One mauve towel, coming up. But then the bathroom door slammed shut. She heard the sonic buzzing from the other size, and then the lock clicked into place.

"Hey!" she yelled. The door wouldn't budge. "No! Doctor, what are you doing?"

A similar pounding and yelling came through from a few meters away. He must've locked Rory in the bedroom, and himself in the sitting room between the two. Amy yanked and twisted the doorknob and kicked at it, but nothing helped.

A few seconds later, the sonic's buzzing intensified and she could hear both the Doctor's and Rory's voices more clearly.

"I'm amplifying the sound frequencies in all three rooms so we can talk," said the Doctor.

"You can't do this, Doctor!" said Rory. "We have to get out of here--we have to get away from _her_."

"Yeah, why'd you lock us in?" Amy joined in. "This isn't helping!"

"Because she said she only needs one more payment," said the Doctor. "Can't you guess what that means?"

Amy went still. Her hands pressed against the door and her heart pounded. If he opened this door now, she would crash through and tackle him to the ground. She wouldn't be able to stop herself.

"She's been draining us, draining our energy every time we've been together," said the Doctor. "If we so much as touch each other right now, we will die."

That wicked, wicked creature. Amy stalked away from the door, hands balled into fists. This was beyond cruel. First tricking her into cheating on her husband, and now this? Oh, she would _kill_ her.

"But all I have to do is not fall asleep," said Rory. "She's been using my dreams, right? So as long as I don't fall asleep, she can't--"

"What are you talking about?" asked Amy. "It's not your fault. She's not feeding on you, she's feeding on. . ."

Oh. _Oh._ The silence that followed was thick and spiky. Rory must've realized it at the same time. They'd _both_ been feeding Lucretia's weird sex energy, her in her trysts with the Doctor, him in his sleep. But how--?

"The thing about the red lotus mixture," said the Doctor, "is it only affects _secret_ desires. That's why it didn't change anything when you two were together. And if I'm right, then the only way to immunize ourselves is to clear up all the secrets."

"What does that mean?" asked Amy. She was afraid she knew the answer, but she had to know. She wanted to hear him say it.

"It means, Amy, Rory, that we need to have a very uncomfortable, very honest conversation. No more lying. About any of it. If we hold anything back about what's been going on here, we will not leave this planet alive. Clear?"

Amy couldn't speak. How was this possible? She couldn't do that to Rory. But she'd already done it, hadn't she? She'd done it two, three, sometimes five times a night. The Doctor was right. Even without the imminent danger, she had to tell him the truth. She just had no idea how to start.

"Amy?" said Rory.

She swallowed. "Yeah?"

"All those nights you couldn't sleep. You weren't going to the library, were you?"

Technically, the first couple of nights, they _had_ gone to the library, but Amy knew better than to point that out. Her throat closed up around a building sob.

"Were you?"

"Rory, I'm so sorry," she cried. Her vision was blurring with tears now. "It was only supposed to be one time, but--"

"You're not joking, are you? You slept with the Doctor?" He didn't even sound angry. That was the worst part. He sounded resigned, like he'd expected it. "How many times?"

"I don't know, I wasn't counting--"

"Sixteen," said the Doctor. "Amy, we had sex sixteen times."

"Doctor!"

"Aren't you listening? We can't hold anything back. Not even me." He took a deep breath. "Your turn, Rory. Tell her what you've been dreaming about."

Another tense, heavy pause filled the air. Then Rory said, "I don't see how. . . But that's different. It's private."

"Not anymore. Just tell her, Rory."

Rory sighed. "You. I've been dreaming about you, Doctor."

Even through her misery, Amy was curious enough to perk up at that. "What kind of dreams?" she asked.

"You know what kind. The kind you don't want to wake up from. The kind that make it hard to walk when you remember them." He was talking fast and low. "The kind that make you look forward to the nights so you can go back to them."

Amy's mind reeled. So Rory had been having increasingly intense sex dreams about the Doctor. She wanted details. But another piece of the puzzle was coming back to her.

"Doctor," she said. "You said you wanted Rory to join us."

"What?" asked Rory. "When?"

"Last night, but I said I didn't think you'd want to. Did he know?"

"No, he couldn't have. I haven't told anyone. And I made sure no one saw that journal, ever."

"I knew, Rory," said the Doctor. "Because I've been having the same dreams. Mind you, I haven't been sleeping much, but when I can sleep, I've been dreaming about you. It's a shared dream state, not so different from the psychic pollen."

The psychic pollen dreams had been so vivid, they stuck out in Amy's mind like proper memories. If the Doctor and Rory had been dreaming about _each other_ , that meant. . .

"So, you really were--" said Rory.

"Yes, I think so," said the Doctor. "And I haven't been thinking clearly, because I can't stop thinking about both of you."

He was pacing. Amy could actually hear him pacing.

"Is that it then?" she asked. "All the secrets? Are we okay?"

"Only one way to find out," said the Doctor. "Stand back, Ponds. I'm opening the doors now. But I will lock them again if I have to."

Amy wiped her eyes and took two steps back. The lock clicked, and the door opened. The Doctor watched her cautiously, his screwdriver poised to throw the doors shut again. Rory leaned against the door frame in the other room, his face an unreadable mask. Already, she knew that Lucretia's potion wouldn't work anymore. Her powerful attraction to the Doctor hadn't gone away, but it had faded to a hum in the back of her mind. She could ignore it.

She couldn't ignore Rory. She crossed the room with halting steps, afraid to look in his eyes. She was halfway there, when he said, "Oh, come here," and raced forward to embrace her. His arms felt like home.

He touched her cheek went they parted. "The fever's breaking," he said. "It worked. Doctor, it worked."

The Doctor said nothing. Just pocketed the sonic and gave a small nod.

"I'm sorry," Amy whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"Shh," said Rory, hugging her tight again. "Never mind. Let's live through this first. We can talk it out later. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Good," said the Doctor, severing the moment in that terse, impatient way of his. "Because there's still something else you haven't noticed." He grabbed their hands again and pulled them towards the window. The moonlight was streaming in.

"What, the moon?" Amy asked. When she said it out loud, she understood. "Oh, my god, we're thick. The moon!"

"Exactly," said the Doctor.

"What's so strange about the--Oh." Rory caught on half a heartbeat after they had. "Are there some planets with moons that stay full all the time?"

"Oh, sure. There are planets where the moon is made of metal or cheese. Anything's possible. But that," he pointed out the window accusingly, "is not a moon."

"So what's it doing here?" asked Amy.

"It's romantic," said Rory. "Part of the decoration. Right?" He sounded hopeful, like he wanted the Doctor to be impressed.

"Possibly," said Doctor. "Or, maybe it's a deadlock. Or maybe--just maybe--it's keeping the tides up so there's a lake where there shouldn't be a lake. If I can just lock onto the right frequency. . ." He pointed the sonic at the moon, took a look at the readings, and nodded to himself. "We're getting the TARDIS back. Tonight."

# # #


	10. The Lake Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penultimate chapter! In which Amy Pond goes OFF, and things break, and there is flooding. Home stretch, guys!

The Doctor was trying to explain tide pools and lunar influence and something sciencey about artificial heavenly bodies, but Amy couldn't keep up. She just let him talk. All she knew was they were heading to the library because it was the highest point they could climb down from safely, and had enough windows that they could probably find one that wasn't locked.

"Do you know what to do, Amy?" asked the Doctor. "I know it's a bit slapdash, as plans go--"

"All your plans are like that," Rory pointed out.

The Doctor scowled, but only for a moment, then ushered them further on. Amy didn't miss the way his hand lingered on Rory's shoulder. The Doctor had always been the touchy-feely type, but she should have noticed that right away.

They wound up at the same corner with the leather chair and the Tiffany lamp. The sight of the chair stirred Amy's memory, but she resented it now. The Doctor tried the French window, but it was locked. Even the sonic didn't work on it.

"Now what do we do?" asked Rory.

Amy eyed the Tiffany lamp. She picked it up, trying the weight in her hands. Then she ripped the cord out of its socket and chucked it through the window, shattering them both.

"A bit dramatic, Pond," said the Doctor.

Amy shrugged. "She's a horrible woman, it's a horrible lamp." Inwardly, she added, _Nobody fucks with my sex life and gets away with it_. Petty, she knew, but she didn't care. "Are we going down or what?"

They were descending the old-fashioned way, via a string of bedsheets tied together into a rope. A hideous mauve and purple rope. As far as Amy was concerned, it was the best use the sheets had been put to yet. The rope wouldn't hold all three of them, so they had to go down one at a time. Rory went first.

"Quickly," said the Doctor, securing the end to make sure it wouldn't break. "Before she finds out we're still here."

They should have saved the worry for later. Lucretia was waiting for them at the bottom.

"I liked that lamp," she said simply. "It was an antique you know."

"Takes one to know one," Amy spat. She was going to throw a punch, but Rory grabbed her arm and held her back.

"Lucretia," said the Doctor. "Interesting choice of name. Deliberate, I assume?"

The young-old woman grinned. "Indeed. Have we met?"

"Possibly. Time traveller--I always get first meetings out of order."

He was pacing. Pacing and rambling, biding for time, and working up to a very big reveal. Amy and Rory stepped away. Lucretia didn't know him like they did. If she had, she wouldn't have kept pushing him.

"Going by the red lotus concoction and the lunar projection, I'm guessing you're one of the Venutians?"

"The what?" said Rory.

"Nomadic race. Scavengers that feed on various emotional impulses. They wander the universe, usually only pick up enough stray thoughts to survive, and then move on. But _you_ , lovely, hijacked an entire planet and turned it into your personal larder." The Doctor shook his head. "Impressive."

"Thank you, Doctor," said Lucretia.

"It wasn't a compliment."

"I'm aware. To be perfectly honest, this place stopped sustaining me a long time ago."

"Yes, I imagine once people worked out that visitors on Revelry Island never came back, they stayed away."

"But humans are wonderfully self-sufficient." She stepped closer with a hungry look in her eye. "I suggest a trade: Leave one of your pets with me. I can keep them alive as long as I need them, and they'll pass away peacefully. They won't even feel any pain." She smiled, showing her teeth. "Do that for me, and I will let you go."

That's when the Doctor straightened his bow-tie. He'd just made a decision that the Venutian wasn't going to like. Sometimes the Doctor scared Amy when he got like this. But today, she wanted to see this creature burn. She closed her hand around a familiar metal object in her pocket, and waited for his signal.

"You know," he said quietly, "I was thinking about letting you off easy. I could turn you over to the Shadow Proclamation and let them give you a fair trial for the crimes you've committed here. But you hurt the people I love. And God knows how many others. You are not in a position to be making bargains. Now, Amy!"

Amy spun around and pulled the sonic out of her pocket. She pointed it at the sky, directly at the face of the false moon. At the same time, Rory took off over the hill behind them--the same one that led to the lake where they'd first arrived.

It wasn't technically a lake. It also wasn't technically a moon, but definitely a satellite, and also designed to control not the tides, but the _dams_. The lake had been siphoned from the river. A little creative rewiring was all it took. The Doctor had shifted the coordinates to reroute all that water directly into the spot where they were all standing.

Well, all of them but Rory, who was racing into the shallowing lakebed to retrieve their ride off. It was a long way, and risky to bring the TARDIS back to them in time just going on-foot, but Amy knew he could do it. Her husband had been a Centurion once, a long time ago. All soldiers knew how to run.

"What are you doing?" asked Lucretia.

Amy smiled to hear the panic in her voice. The sound of water rushing was getting closer.

"Stop it--whatever you're doing, stop it!"

"No, dear," said the Doctor. "You had your chance to grovel and you decided to gloat and threaten instead."

A wave crashed up over the hill, sending a spray that misted into their faces.

"You're going to destroy everything!" shrieked the Venutian.

"You already destroyed everything here that was worth saving. We're just finishing the job."

"Oh, shut up, and RUN!" said Amy. The sonic was vibrating violently in her hand. This was a much bigger job than it was supposed to be able to handle.

Meanwhile, the water was coming. It spilled over the hill as if in slow motion. They had seconds left.

"Come on, Rory," she pleaded. "Get us out of here."

Lucretia did run. Back into the empty village, most likely. There wasn't much else here. Amy clutched the sonic with both hands, trying to hold it steady. _Please, just a little longer,_ she begged it silently.

"It's all right, Amy," said the Doctor, his voice soft in her ear. "I've got you." He came up behind her and wrapped his hands around hers.

Amy leaned back against him gratefully. Her feet her wet. The water was rising. It was already up to her ankles. "Doctor," she said.

"I've got you," he repeated. "He'll come."

She almost didn't see it. A flash of the bluest blue in the corner of the sky. She couldn't take her eyes off that moon. The Doctor wrenched the sonic out of her grip and grabbed her hand. She barely felt her feet leave the ground as they jumped. The ground tumbled away, the garden flooded, and that was the end of the Red Lotus Inn.

Amy scrambled backward into the console room. She threw her arms around Rory, and he hugged her back tight enough to make it hard to breathe. The Doctor stayed close, wrapping his long arms around them both. They were home.

#

A long overdue talk was in order. Rory had gotten a pot of coffee brewing--coffee, not tea, at least not for a while. He and Amy sat in the kitchen at the long wooden table. Amy hadn't noticed before, but she thought it was modeled after the table in her own kitchen, when she was a little girl. Funny, how the Doctor got nostalgic over things like that.

Amy didn't want to have this conversation. But she needed it. They both did.

"So," she said.

Rory smiled stiffly. "So," he echoed.

After vainly waiting for the silence to fill itself, Amy said, "He's going to send a message to the Shadow Proclamation. Let them know what happened, and classify Revelry Island as unsafe. Whatever that means."

Rory nodded. "What's going to happened to Lucretia?"

"Dunno. Maybe she'll get that fair trial after all. If she survived the flood."

"I counted twenty-three other ships down there, when I was running across the lakebed. Twenty-three ships' worth of people, all drained to nothing to keep her young."

"Rory, I--"

"You cheated on me."

The words were an ice pick in her heart. She looked down at her hands. "I did."

"And I cheated on you."

"What? No." Amy shook her head. "That's not the same. You can't stop yourself from dreaming."

"No, I was there. It was a shared dream state, like he said. We were both there. But you're right, I couldn't have stopped myself, even if I wanted to. Neither could he. And . . . neither could you. She drugged us, Amy."

"Even so, I shouldn't have--"

"Amy." Rory sighed. He reached across the table and took her hands. "I'm trying to say I forgive you."

Amy was speechless. How could he? After everything she'd done, how could he always forgive her?

"Can you forgive me?" he said.

"You haven't done anything wrong--of course I forgive you."

Rory nodded slowly. "Good. Okay. Because . . . I want us to try."

"I know. Me too. I'll try harder."

"Wait, I don't think you understand: I want _us_ to try. You, me, the Doctor--us."

Amy looked up. Her husband's face was inscrutable. When the Doctor was lying or teasing her, she could usually find some tell that let her know. But Rory didn't lie. Not to her.

On that last night, when the Doctor had suggested Rory join them, he'd seemed surprised when she shot him down. "He'd never say yes," she'd said. But he hadn't been so sure. Even then, she'd wondered about that.

"You've already talked this over with him, haven't you?" she asked. "In your dreams?"

"A little," Rory admitted. "It's just an idea, and I know it sounds ridiculous, but. . . Well, what do you think?" He glanced up at her hopefully.

Amy stared at him. The universe was full of surprises. "I think we're going to need a bigger bed."

# # #


	11. A Proper Honeymoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINAL CHAPTER! With sexy-times! Also, wow, this story picked up steam like a lot in the past three chapters-ish, so thank you everyone who is leaving kudos and comments and everything! I cannot tell you how much it brightens my day to read notifications for this story on my lunch breaks.
> 
> Hope you've all enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. <3

It was chilly in the console room. Amy wrapped the silky blue dressing gown more tightly around herself. But not _too_ tight. She wanted some skin showing. At least it was short enough to show off her legs. The Doctor had always paid particular attention to her legs.

He was preoccupied with something on the view screen, pushing buttons and pulling levers.

"Hi," said Amy.

"Hello, Pond." He didn't look up from the screen. But he would. Eventually. "How's that new, big bed working out?"

Amy came down the steps. "I noticed you gave us mauve pillows. Is that supposed to be funny?"

"Oh. Did I?" He smirked.

She'd make him pay for that somehow.

"Anyway, we haven't really tested it yet," said Amy. "It's fine for sleeping I guess, but that's not really why we asked."

Finally, he looked at her. And there was that double-take, from the low-cut neckline to her bare legs and back up again.

"Oh. Erm," he muttered. "Huh. I uh, I thought you left that thing at the inn."

"No, genius, I left the green one at the inn," said Amy. She leaned back against the console, letting the skirt ride up and the dressing gown drape open. "This one's blue."

"So it is. . ."

His gaze raked over her, and Amy let it. Her nipples were already pert from the cold air. Her skin tingled with anticipation.

But then he shook his head, as if clearing his senses, and turned back to the view screen.

"Doctor--"

"No. I've learned my lesson, and so should you."

"I thought we were done with secrets."

The Doctor frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

"Me and Rory, we've been talking. He told me what the two of you were dreaming about. All of it."

The Doctor swallowed uneasily.

"And we were thinking, it's not fair that you and I got to spend so much time together, but you two had so little."

"Well, time's different in dreams, Amy. Just a few minutes in the real world can be hours in a dream. And hours can turn into days. You'd be amazed what you can do when time's stretched out like--" He clamped his mouth shut. "Oh dear, I'm rambling again."

"Days? Really?" said Amy, sidling closer. "Wow. You boys have more stamina than I realized."

"No, Amy, that's not what--"

"If you're saying no, it's okay. Really. But tell me the truth. Do you want to be with us, or not?" She reached out and turned his face to look at her. "Because you still owe us a proper honeymoon. And we think maybe the reason it keeps going wrong is because we keep leaving you out of it. We need you, Doctor."

For a long time, he didn't say anything. He just stared into her eyes. Then he took hold of her hand. He bent his head towards hers and kissed her. Softly at first, then with a longing deeper and truer than anything they'd done together at the inn. The red lotus had unlocked their lust, but there was more between them than that.

Amy slid her hands up his arms and pulled him closer. He grasped the back of her head, deepening the kiss. His other hand stroked her face, then moved down her neck, then to her breast, gently fingering the nipple through the silk. Amy moaned into his mouth, clutching the lapels of his jacket.

He broke the kiss abruptly and said, "Rory's waiting for us then?"

Breathless, Amy nodded.

"Okay. Show me your bed."

#

The candles were a bit much. Rory had put up a good dozen or so around the dresser, vanity mirror, and window seats. He was just finishing the last one when Amy and the Doctor came in. He shook the match out.

"Oh," he said. "Hello. So. You're saying yes, then?"

"If this is really what you want," said the Doctor. But there was a gleam in his eyes that Amy hadn't seen before. Some need that he had never dared to speak was being met in this room, with the both of them.

"It is," said Amy. She kissed his ear, then peeled his jacket off, and laid it on a chair by the door. "And this time, you don't have to worry about being quiet, or being found. . ."

"Or waking up," said Rory. He crossed the room, carefully, uncertainly, still not as bold as Amy. "If that's what _you_ want." He took one of the Doctor's hands, brought it to his mouth, and kissed, not taking his eyes off him.

"Rory," said the Doctor. "By now, you know what I want." He took Rory's face in both hands and kissed him full on the mouth.

It was strange, how this was old territory for them, and brand new at the same time. Amy knew her boys' bodies so well by now, but she'd never been with them together. Rory was gentle in a way that made her toes curl and her heart race. He could make her come by running a single finger down her back, or curling his hand around her ear. The Doctor, on the other hand, was excellent with his tongue. He sucked and tasted every inch of her skin, sometimes digging in with his teeth, sometimes not, but always with just enough bite to make it fun.

Now, watching him unleash that tongue on Rory, and seeing Rory react to it, was all the evidence she needed to know they'd done this before. Dream state or not, they had practiced this. Repeatedly. They settled into a well-worn rhythm without needing to ask what the other wanted. And Amy was on her second orgasm before she realized she was doing the same thing, with both of them.

As Amy approached orgasm number three, Rory had one arm wrapped around her back, pressing her close, as the Doctor spooned him from behind. The Doctor's hand was clutching Rory's chest, and he pressed wet kisses into the other man's neck as he thrust. Amy had her leg flung over Rory's and was riding his thigh. At least she _thought_ it was Rory's thigh. It was hard to tell the way they were twisted up together. She knew it was Rory's dick in her hand at least, pumping him in time with the Doctor's thrusts, until they all came.

"God, we should've done this ages ago," said Rory, panting. "It would've made things so much easier."

Amy was settling into the crook of his arm, her favorite spot to sleep in, as Rory rolled onto his back. The Doctor scooted back to make room, staring down at them both with his head propped on one hand, and the other stroking Rory's chest, and Amy's arm, by turns.

"Do you think?" asked Amy. "Might've been a bit awkward at the wedding."

"Says the woman who tried to snog me at said wedding," said the Doctor. "Twice."

Amy reached up and flicked his ear.

"Ow!"

"Don't tease me," she said. "I'm sex-drunk and happy, and you're ruining it."

"You're not ruining anything," said Rory. "Don't listen to her."

They lay there dazed and content for awhile, any awkwardness and hesitation forgotten. Amy was close to drifting off when the Doctor said, "Can I ask why?"

"Why what?" asked Rory.

"Why me?"

Amy wanted to tease him, tell him off for fishing for compliments at a time like this, accuse him of being needy, but she couldn't. The energy in the room was too delicate for that.

So instead, she said, "You know why. Surely, by now."

"No, I mean--"

"I know," said Rory. "You mean, me, specifically? Why did _I_ fall in love with you?"

Hearing him put it that way disarmed Amy completely. And seeing the Doctor's face, suddenly tender, she guessed it was having the same effect on him.

"Yes," he said quietly.

Rory reached up and stroked his hair. "I guess because of the Pandorica," he said. "For two thousand years, you were the only one who knew who I really was. You were my only friend. I knew Amy was coming back, but I was alone for so long. Except for those times you came to see me."

"I never knew that," said Amy.

"I don't like talking about it," said Rory. "Most of it was awful."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't--it's not your fault. I volunteered. But yes, I think that's when I fell for you. Does that answer your question, Doctor?"

Instead of answering, the Doctor bent down, slid his hand behind Rory's head, and kissed him. It was long and deep and full of feeling.

When it was over, the Doctor said, "If this is in any way unclear, I love you. Both of you." He grabbed Amy's hand and kissed it. "And I'm sorry for taking so long to say it."

"Oh, Doctor," said Amy. "We know." Then she pulled him down to her and kissed him again.

Just like that, they were ready for another round. There was something about making love after they'd actually said the word "love" out loud that made everything so much sweeter. Amy told herself she could've kept going all night. Actually, she had no idea how long they stayed on that bed. Maybe it _was_ all night, or several, in a row. Time didn't matter that much on this ship. It could be "all night" for as long as they wanted.

Finally, they fell to sleep in each other's arms. She didn't know what they'd be when they woke up. But she was pretty sure they'd figure it out.

THE END.


End file.
